Star No Star
by OublietteVII
Summary: "When I'm the girl that you want, I will be waiting right here..." Nocturnal musings about the past, changing feelings, and haunting faces. Orihime's POV. Set after Hueco Mundo arc. Very mild GrimmHime. Oneshot.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Kubo Tite. I also do not own the lyrics to 'Star No Star' [featured in summary]. All rights belong to Jack Off Jill. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

**Star No Star**

Things really did seem to have more meaning in the stillness of the midnight hour.

The shadows stretched across the deserted streets of Karakura Town, engulfing the scenery with a faint sense of melancholy and hidden intentions. The only light came from the moon in the sky above-occasionally covered by the ever present clouds-along with the streetlights below. And stars, so many stars, glittering in the blackness. Diamonds suspended in space, forever out of reach. The ultimate figurative goal for those bound by gravity and human limitations.

Yet, in a strange way, it was peaceful; a far cry from the usual chaos and unearthly events that surrounded the area, day or night. How sad that it was occurring at a time when none of the residents were awake to enjoy it. By sunup, the spell would be broken.

Down the various well-worn sidewalks and roads, past the empty shops and darkened windows of suburbia. The traces of moonlight lingered upon the ground, a single door in a rundown apartment complex coming into view. Beyond its walls, a figure lay tangled among bedsheets, murmuring and sweating in the clutches of a fitful sleep.

"...mmm...no...it's not...I..." Long locks were splayed out across the pillow and mattress, their fiery shade darkened as a pale, tiny hand reached out to grip at the blankets that covered her trembling body. Her eyes were shut tightly, lips parting to mutter a few quick, unintelligible syllables. In her mind's eye, a parade of familiar images played out...memories of a time that she both wanted to, yet couldn't forget.

Whiteness. A sea of sand, barren land with no life, no emotion to be found among the confines. Cold walls, barred windows. A crescent moon fixed above her, its milky light filtering into her cage as she stared on and on, daring herself to resist. No matter the choice she'd chosen to make.

"No..." Her grip tightened. Now she saw faces, so many faces. Faces that melted and merged, to become a jumble of fractured features. And they were far from human.

Green eyes. More white. Masks. Teeth. Bones. Claws. Blood. Cruelty. Hatred, reflecting in the gazes of all she passed. The echoing heartbeats of her own heart. It was so loud, so very loud indeed...

"I...I can't..." Now her mumblings were becoming whimpers, as she felt the familiar sensations of pain and torment begin to swallow her up whole. Guilt. Pure, unadulterated guilt. Where was it coming from? It was as if she were falling, falling down into a never-ending pit of perfectly tuned madness. Again, it had all been her choice.

The keys were in her hands, but she had no clue as how to unlock what was hidden. She continued through the void, struggling to find her way out. She then saw a figure; an oh-so-familiar blur of orange and black and flesh, surrounded by a glow. She rushed forwards, but it felt as if time had slowed down. She couldn't reach him-!

"_What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?" _The phrase repeated itself, over and over again in a hurried tone. She wasn't saying it, but she could hear it. Was it in her head? Was she thinking this? And was this really a suitable answer to the situation at hand? If you can't find an answer, you should make one, right?

Then, a scream pierced the setting. Whose voice was that? Was it her own? Was it still all in her mind?

"_Help me, Kurosaki-kun!" _It wasn't. She _had_ cried out. To realize this, even from a distance-it made her stomach twist into knots. Her lungs felt crushed, as she attempted to gather her wits, trying to draw in a single stable breath. Why wasn't she doing anything? Couldn't she at least try to do something?

And the dream took an even darker turn. This figure meant to protect slowly began to distort into a monstrous shape. The body stretched and the joints shifted. Horns formed atop the distorted skull, with long locks whipping in the wind, a booming roar filling the air. Her pulse quickened, fear of this new beast completely drowning out any possible musings or wonderings. She seemed to be shrinking under its massive presence.

She heard laughter, heard taunting bouncing back and forth between two new forms, whose mocking expressions never seemed to change. They hovered around this being, only serving to magnify its utter power, and her complete helplessness. The ground seemed to quake beneath her, as she fell to her knees in surrender. Its very existence was enough to suck her dry of any resolve.

Suddenly, an explosion. A flash. And a new silhouette, one that she couldn't quite identify this time around. The name was on the tip of her tongue, yet her throat seemed constricted. But this didn't matter. They strode forth, effectively causing all three terrors to shrink away from her.

Her balance was returning. Flapping wings. Roaring. A glint of metal, and a stumbling form. Her hand reached out, to clutch at ashes and empty air.

Crunching bones. Screaming. Cursing. Another flash. Growling, tearing, boiling blood and animal instincts so palpable she could almost taste them. And blue. So much blue...she was getting lost in it. A rough touch, and that piercing gaze, that gaze she still couldn't name...the gaze which haunted her, asked of her, forced her. Lips parting, words with no sound. And then, a wicked grin.

"_I need you..."_

"Ah!" The girl bolted up in bed, shaking and shivering. Her hand ran through her loose hair, trying to brush it away from her murky grey eyes. Her breaths were coming in ragged, soft gasps, as she struggled to ease the uneven beating of her heart within her chest. Reaching up instead to place her hand over her breast, her amber locks fell forwards once more, a light sweat dampening the ends of her long bangs.

_Why...why am I still seeing these things? It's been over a year already! It's all over...all over...we've moved on-I've moved on..._Trying to convince herself that it was just a dream, a subconscious reflection of the past, she raised up her thin arms to wrap protectively around her shoulders.

Seventeen year old Inoue Orihime's mind was in a tangled mess. Her thoughts were usually disjointed as was, but tonight they were bordering on the positively grotesque. One after another they rushed through her mind, as she tried to remember the last time she'd gotten a good night's sleep.

It wasn't like she hadn't had the dreams before. They'd shown up shortly after she'd returned from her 'unexpected' stay in Hueco Mundo, that sprawling wasteland of horror and Hollows. She'd been kidnapped, even if the terms were phrased differently.

She hadn't said a single word to anyone about the length of her experiences there, though she figured it was expected that some sort of traumatic aftermath would occur. She simply told herself that it was normal, and that she'd recover. She'd bounce back, as always. She was Inoue Orihime, everyone's best friend. The girl-next-door. The princess.

Her fingers clenched against the front of her camisole top. And, to a certain degree, she had. Eventually, the nightmares had faded. She had hidden the entire process behind a cheery smile and those wide, grey eyes of hers. It wasn't an unfamiliar concept; she was used to keeping her feelings inside. The last thing she needed was anyone worrying about her. There were much more important things to take care of, and she'd spent more than half her life needing others to watch over her.

Now Orihime bit at her lower lip. Yes, it had been frightening-terrifying, in fact, and dangerous to boot. She could've easily been killed at any given moment, walking head on into the enemy's territory like that. What if they hadn't liked what they'd seen? What if they'd decided that she really wasn't all that useful to them after all? What if...so many 'what if's. She couldn't stand them.

But she'd had to do it. She'd had to take that chance. In that narrow tunnel, she'd held the lives of her friends and protectors, all in the palm of her hand. And she was tired of always having to look to everyone else to make her decisions.

Plus, to turn away; shut her heart out of the equation, and focus on herself? It was impossible for her to accomplish. The outcome came with its own weight, but her suffering compared to the suffering of multitudes of others? There was no comparison, in her book. She wasn't a weakling. She was strong. She could take it. She could survive.

And she had. But for a price.

Slipping off the thick covers that surrounded her, Orihime drew up her legs to her chest, resting her chin upon her knees.

What had happened once she'd arrived, though, thrown into that little room? All that while, when she'd been a prisoner among the Espada and Aizen, that nagging little spark had continued to remain under the surface-even though she'd cursed its existence, so contrary to her decision: that she would be saved. It went against everything she'd been trying to build up in herself in the length of time before her abduction.

Although she'd done her best to leave no trace, and to pray that her friends took the bait, deep down inside, there was still that tiny piece of hesitance. She was afraid. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of the pain. Afraid of being a failure.

But most of all...afraid of death.

She shut her eyes. For all her training, and all her promises, in the end...she still hadn't come through. She'd just been more dead weight; a treat to lure in Ichigo and his friends, nearly getting them killed in the process. Because of her, Ichigo had almost-

She shook her head. Not yet. She couldn't finish that thought.

It came bubbling back to the surface though, and the more she tried to block it out, the stronger it became. It was all because of her. As much as she'd tried to deny it, she was weak. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. The fact remained that there was no way _she_ could've said no to their demands. Because she was who she was. It was practically written on her face, an easy thing to exploit.

Was this what the dreams were trying to tell her? That it wasn't just a replay, a callback to trauma, but that she still hadn't come to terms with what had occurred in Hueco Mundo? It sure seemed that way. The anguish continued to eat at her, as she recalled just how far things had gone. How far she had sunk.

When it came to Ichigo and herself, she was always the one who needed to be protected. Even after obtaining her own unique abilities, she'd still fallen into the role of 'damsel in distress'. No matter how many times she'd promised herself otherwise. When would Ichigo ever say he actually needed her in a fight, aside from healing damages? And even that had been rendered a moot point in the confrontation with Ulquiorra...where everything had come crashing down.

Ichigo had lost control. All because of her and her inability to do her job. When it came time to fight or flee, she'd choked. She hadn't been able to help the one she claimed to love. She _could_ have put up another shield. She _could_ have tried to attack. Heck, she could've thrown herself between the two warriors, and made a desperate last-ditch attempt at _some_thing, be it protection or pleading. The Cuatro Espada wasn't that opposed to reasoning, much less from her.

But instead, she'd put the burden on Ichigo, and nearly lost everything for it. The pain was near overwhelming now. How could she have let the situation get so bad? Even Ishida had been fighting for her sake, and he'd wound up with a missing hand and a sword in his gut! Oh, and if the rest of her friends had seen what she'd done-!

She shifted, bringing herself to the edge of the bed. Now her head hung down as she stared at her shorts and exposed legs, swinging lightly above the chilled floor below. All she'd done was stand on the sidelines, watching and panicking and putting her faith in someone else. She could never bring herself to pick up the mantle when the spotlight shined upon her. Her talk was just that, talk. How could she claim to love Ichigo for five lifetimes when, not only couldn't she kiss him, she couldn't even protect him in his time of need?

_Just like always...! _Her eyes shut tight, and she fought to banish the unshed tears. She was not broken, she was not fragile. She would not cry, no matter what her heart was telling her otherwise. Tears now would not solve what had taken place before.

Stepping down, Orihime took a few steps towards the door. She was up and about; with all the jumble in her head, it wouldn't be so easy for her to fall back into slumber. She had to come up with some sort of resolution. She couldn't sleep with such problems on her mind. She had to find a way to dispel them, no matter the outcome. And then, she'd try to invoke those familiar pathways; the innocence and warmth of what her dreams were meant to be.

She had to try and escape the cold. The cold of the past was overwhelming.

Her hand closed around the doorknob, and she made her way down the hall, towards the main room. She could make out the shape of her low table, and her brother's shrine. The outline of the entranceway to the kitchen loomed on her left, in the corner of her vision. The light of the moon filtered in through the nearby window, just a few feet from where she stood. Silky shadows swirled upon the floor as the white curtains hung over the glass.

The girl headed towards the faint glow. Perhaps if she saw a glimpse of the world outside, quiet and stable, it would reassure her in some way? Or did she really deserve to be calmed? Either way, it was worth a shot. Pushing the pane up, she allowed the night air to wash over her skin. It wasn't too cool, not enough to cause goosebumps, nor to weave around her amber locks and blow them back over her shoulders. Leaning on the windowsill, she gazed out over the neighborhood.

Her eyelids drooped slightly, causing the grey to darken to a shade closer to watery coal. The buildings outside were the same as always; she'd been living in this neighborhood ever since she was a small child. She had the layout memorized, from the ragged garden below to the high walls across the street, and the pair of trees just a short ways down the road. Her stare flickered upwards, to focus on the sky instead. Once more, her eyes opened.

She could make out a few stars, glimmering here and there. How many times had she, as a child, tried to capture those teasing orbs in her tiny hands? Her brother had found her antics amusing, though she was being quite serious in her attempts. It was either from her window or upon the sidewalk, or even in a treetop. She'd almost fallen off of a branch with the last option, and if her dress hadn't caught just so on the edge she'd have wound up with a broken arm, maybe more.

Yet again, her mind began to wander. Back to those memories. There had been a moon and sky in Hueco Mundo. Only a moon, in fact. Was it the same sky as the one here? She didn't remember any stars out there, but she remembered that gash in the scenery, when Ichigo had flew off to another confrontation with Ulquiorra. Well, there was her answer.

The moon seemed to waver in her sight. She looked away from the bright half-shape, instead focusing on all the scattered stars. Where had her dreams of yesteryear gone? Of being a sword-wielding princess, whose team had included dancing kamaboko and a half-cat, half-vehicle, the former serving as emergency food supply while the latter made for good transportation past the singing forests?

Or her dreams of somehow, winning Ichigo's heart through some sort of stream of crazy events, usually ending on a cliffhanger, like an assassination attempt, or a car chase, or even a sudden breakdown in the assembly line at the boxed lunch factory? Fat chance of that ever happening now, though. These days, all she saw was her 'beloved's' unleashed Hollow, and at the end, those fearsome blue eyes, staring down at her...boring into her...

_Blue eyes? _She tilted her head slightly. Where had that come from? Ichigo's eyes weren't blue. And the one who'd been assigned to watch her, Ulquiorra, had green eyes, which had shown up at the beginning of her vivid vision. She couldn't remember anyone with-

Her heart skipped then. _T-that's right..._As much as she tried to shrug off the sudden tension in her chest, she couldn't. The name that had eluded her in her mind's eye had finally come to the surface in her conscious musings. And the image they invoked was not a friendly one in that lonely, late hour. Two syllables left her lips, soft and shuddering.

"...Grimmjow..."

Why him? Why did _he_, of all people, stand out so prominently, like some kind of..._hero_, when he should have been banished to the deepest recesses of her thoughts? As nothing more than a specter faded with time? Plenty of things had happened during her 'adventures' in Hueco Mundo. And yet, he always seemed to factor into these dreams; a strange focal point, bringing both calm and confusion to her frantic emotions.

That was when Orihime would wake up.

_He was...cold, and cruel, vicious...he hurt Kurosaki-kun so badly..._Whether her feelings for Ichigo were a part of this or not, it didn't change what was real. He was a foul-mouthed brute. She swallowed hard. He was the second Espada she'd had to come into contact with. After being brought to the castle by Ulquiorra, she'd been ordered by Aizen to demonstrate her 'amazing' abilities, by healing the newly demoted Sexta Espada of a missing left arm.

She'd had no idea how he'd lost it. Maybe one of her teammates had hacked it off? At the moment, it hadn't really registered in her mind to bother questioning how it had happened. She had simply followed the task given to her, knowing full well what it meant for any who dared to challenge him after the act.

He had proved this point full and well, by taking out his own comrade, an Espada named Luppi who had apparently been assigned his seat and number. In one quick strike, he'd gutted the figure with a maniacal grin and triumphant laughter.

For the briefest of moments, their eyes had locked amongst the chaos, electric blue to melancholy grey. She could've sworn she saw a flicker of interest flash across his gaze. Then, the moment was over. Orihime vaguely recalled a sense of detachment at witnessing the whole sequence of violence. A rarity for her. Why hadn't her emotions kicked in then? Why hadn't she tried to save the fallen Espada, enemy or not?

Now her body was starting to tremble. So much gore...she refused to dwell on that point any longer. Her mind instead returned to the previous focus; the unravelling of a bizarre and utterly unexpected personification.

Why did this strange..._connection_, exist between her and that blue-haired madman, in a place where she was even more vulnerable than when she was awake? She had no control over her dreams, yes, but having the same visions and feelings, playing out over and over again-even she wasn't that dense. It meant something, something that she couldn't determine. They weren't just mental scars. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come?

A tingling current seemed to rise from the wooden floor to her feet, soon creeping up her spine like icy-legged insects. No, that wasn't it. Though it was true that she hadn't seen what had become of Grimmjow after that fateful confrontation with Ichigo, she had no reason to assume that he hadn't succumbed to his wounds out there among the otherworldly desert. If it were anything otherwise, she'd certainly have sensed something by now.

But she hadn't. She merely continued having these same dreams, night after night after night. Continued being wracked by guilt, only to be 'rescued' by someone who could've really cared less what had happened to her in actuality. Where was her Women's Intuition when she really needed it? She couldn't begin to count how many times she'd seen and heard _him_ in the night, alongside her tainted object of affection.

A slow breath escaped her lips. As much as she claimed to love Ichigo, claimed to be willing to push herself beyond her limits to make him happy and proud, to be willing to do anything and everything for him...she couldn't hide behind her fantasy. Reality was staring her straight in the face, ready to slap her the minute she let herself get lost in blissful daydreams.

She wasn't. She really wasn't. There was a difference between 'loving' someone, and being 'in love' with them. Sure, she admired Ichigo, adored him even-but that alone did not make for a fairy tale ending. She'd been forced to admit this once she'd been returned to the comfort of her own home. It was a bitter pill to swallow, yet it wasn't one she could continue to ignore. She did care for him, but...after everything that had happened with Aizen and the Espada, her feelings had come under intense scrutiny, by none other than she herself. And now, it seemed as though her subconscious was joining the game.

And even if she _did_ 'love' him-if she actually understood that concept as thoroughly as she _thought_ she did...

Ichigo didn't see her the same way. To him, she would always be nothing more than a friend. A tagalong. And when he'd stormed Hueco Mundo, it hadn't been purely out of concern for her wellbeing. She'd seen it in his eyes, his actions, when they'd finally been reunited. He'd barely even given her the time of day, when she was at her worst.

Biting her lip once more, Orihime saw that mask in her mind's eye yet again, the most blatant piece of evidence against her ideals. She'd witnessed his intentions in their most potent and ugly form during his fight with Ulquiorra. His motivation was far different than the time they'd taken on the Soul Society to rescue Rukia.

He had come to settle a score. She was nothing more than a bonus, an extra piece to the story. And, at the very end, a catalyst. A trigger.

How ironic was it that the one who had brought them back together, if for but a short while, was none other than Grimmjow himself, though? Even if it was merely to quench his own thirst for blood and a memorable battle...

Orihime's vision blurred slightly, as she struggled to concentrate on the stars above her head. That's right. Grimmjow was the one who had brought them to one another the first time; had unintentionally 'rescued' her from her prison, and from the torment at the hands of those two Hollow girls. _What were their names again?_ _Loly and Me...Meno...Menouly?_ Something like that.

She could still remember the utter venom and disgust in their eyes as they'd entered her chambers, soon giving way to unbridled joy and delight as they'd knocked her down; tried to break her in any way they could manage, desperate for release against this intruder in their dark existence. Orihime represented everything they'd never have, everything they could never be. She had been Aizen's pet, Ulquiorra's charge, and, at first glance, the reason for the attack on Las Noches. The only life amongst the dead.

Then he'd shown up. And she had become something _more_.

The explosive bang of the blasted wall rang out in her head, clear as a bell. She saw the smoke, saw the shadowy form in the opening, through her swollen eyes. Felt her body hit the ground with a heavy thud, as the pair's interests were diverted from her to..._him_.

Her unexpected savior. The ultimate bastardization of the 'Knight in Shining Armor'.

How brutal he'd been with them, treating them as nothing more than rag dolls; toys to be broken, in a temper tantrum. Except this supposed 'child' had enough power to tear down buildings with his bare hands, and his expression revealed no emotion, no regard to the figures before him. The howls and hurled profanities lingered in her mind, as the blood spilled and the violence increased.

Orihime had been torn in two: on the one hand, she'd been ever so thankful to be spared from any more of this unprovoked-at least on her end-rage. As silent as she'd been, not crying out to give them any satisfaction, it had still hurt. No one wants to be a punching bag, especially when you can't fight back. And as peaceful as she tried to be...she couldn't lie and say that she didn't want to give them a taste of their own medicine, if only for a moment. But she still tried.

On the other end though, she'd begun to feel a steadily building horror and sympathy towards her assaulters. She couldn't help it; it was second nature for her. On the surface, she would have much preferred them to simply be removed from her and her presence. Was the extra bloodshed really so necessary? Then again...it was Grimmjow.

But when he'd finished his actions, turning his focus upon her instead, she felt herself filling with a new unspoken, insurmountable dread. A sole question came forth, as she failed to compose herself: _What's he going to do to me?_

She remembered every last detail; the way his footsteps had vibrated through the floor, setting off a chain of tiny tremors inside her as well. How her heartbeat had seemed to synchronize with those steps, until at long last, he was towering over her. A shaky, stuttering "W-why...?" had fallen from her lips. His sapphire gaze had surveyed her with nothing but cool cockiness, as he'd drawled out his excuse:

"_That's for my left arm."_

Without any effort at all, he'd hauled her to her feet. He was holding her in the air, as his cool dismissal soon turned to a dark eagerness. That leer of his was enough to silence any other questions she may have had, as he surveyed her thoroughly. His intentions were still unreadable though the fascination, however mild, was evident.

She must have looked so weak and pitiful then, having been beaten up by a pair no better than common thugs. Her, the supposedly 'important' captive of Aizen; the girl with the God-like abilities. Somehow, knowing this fact made her feel ill. As if she didn't like the idea of presenting such a battered image to the maniac Espada...though she'd never think of herself so highly, either. Why should she want to impress him, of all those she had come into contact with?

That was when those fateful words had left his mouth; smooth and unflinching, making her heart and mind do a double-take. Those words that she'd longed to hear from another...but instead, they were coming from the enemy. The words that enveloped the very core of her dreams, her being:

"_I need you..."_

From there, things had flown by in the blink of an eye. Grimmjow had dropped her rather callously, telling her to 'heal herself up.' "_I don't drag around girls lookin' like that." _So he did have at least some sort of opinion on her appearance...? A strange idea to consider, indeed. Why should a terror like him give a care?

Before following his command however, she'd broken free of his grip-or perhaps he'd just let her go, out of self-assurance and the fact that she had nowhere to run?-and turned her attention to the two females lying upon the floor. Although she hurt from the beating, the first concern on her mind, now free from the man's paralyzing gaze, was to heal the extensive damage he'd caused to her enemies. No one deserved to suffer like that. It was an act which earned her a few choice insults from her 'patients', as well as a stinging slap to the face.

Even with a bitter voice of dissuasion trying to worm its way forth from the back of her mind, she'd continued her job in silence, taking no notice of Grimmjow's actions behind her as he waited for her to finish her self-imposed task. But she knew he was watching, if nothing else. She could tell by the shivers that unconsciously slipped down her spine, and she tried to pretend that it was merely her overactive nerves at work.

Once she'd turned the focus onto herself she'd seen, through her bleary vision, that he was now faced away from her with hands shoved in pockets, as he stared at the wall to his right. She couldn't tell if the new expression upon his face was one of annoyance or boredom. Orihime hadn't been about to risk his hair-trigger temper again, though. He'd said he'd needed her. So it was time for her to get ready.

And that was when the restraining and binding came into play.

He treated her like an object; something to be picked up, hauled around and put down whenever and however he felt like it. It was quite the change from how she was usually handled. The girl couldn't protest, couldn't complain-couldn't even let out a sound as he'd tied a cloth gag around her mouth, before binding her wrists as well, adding in that extra length of chain. Like a leash. As if she truly were nothing more than a pet. A slave. These thoughts should have sickened her: being handled in such a way, and by someone who she'd never let touch her normally, not in a million years.

But tonight, something was different. She couldn't bring herself to feel the usual repulsion and shock at the feat, trembling fingers reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from her shadowed eyes and furrowed brow. There was a new feeling in place now...a feeling that both entranced and petrified her with its implications.

His hands had been rough, but strong. His hold on her hadn't wavered as he'd hidden her behind that ratty cloak, shoving her against him as he'd marched from the bedroom with her concealed and in tow. They'd made their brazen escape from the confines of Los Noches, Orihime's heart hammering in her chest as if it were going to explode from the stress and implausibility of the current situation.

She was being led out. Smuggled. Released. By none other than Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the Espada who'd, only a few days earlier, tried to kill the man she'd thought she'd been so hopelessly, irrevocably in love with. The situation had been turned on its head.

The girl had stumbled a few times, trying to keep up with his pace. She'd received a growl, a sharp yank of the binds, or a muttered curse as he'd forced her, with as little visible motion as possible, to lean ever closer to him and keep moving. His hand had gripped at her shoulder, fingers digging into the skin just a little bit more with every falter. "Fucking hell, don't you know how to walk?" Again, that unnamed feeling, as her left side pressed into his abdomen. This contact...

She loathed it. Loathed it. Loathed it, hated it, _despised_ it with every fiber of her being. And she was deathly fearful of the man. Right? That was the answer she was supposed to give in response to this, yes? Orihime's head was spinning, and she was seeing stars. But they weren't restricted to the ones in the sky.

He was only doing this for his own personal gain. That's what she kept reminding herself of, anyway. She'd found that out as soon as he'd deposited her in the dirt beside the still, facedown form of one Kurosaki Ichigo. He needed her ability, her 'God-like powers', to bring him back to life and set him up for a rematch. The girl had had no problem in reviving him; a dead Ichigo was at the bottom of the barrel of things she cared to live through in her life, love be damned.

Their work had been interrupted, however, when none other than Ulquiorra had shown up, not very pleased about his charge winding up in the hands of the Sexta Espada. A brief confrontation had ensued, and Orihime was once more thrown for a loop. In the end, Grimmjow had won; he bought them time to complete the tasks at hand.

Doing her best to keep her emotions in check, she'd begun the arduous job of repair. In reality, the redhead was being swallowed by a wave of conflicting feelings. She threw herself back into the images of her past, in a desperate bid to change the subject. It wasn't working.

She would bring Ichigo back. There was no doubt of that. But the thought of healing him up fully, only to be torn apart again by this figure? This man, who could control her with just a look, a gesture, a word? She couldn't. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it. There was no backing down; this was her first chance, to prove that she was more than just pretty words. For once, Orihime _would_ protect him.

That was when Grimmjow's hand had found its way to her throat.

"_What did you say?" _He was daring her to repeat herself, repeat the statement she'd threatened him with. As his azure eyes bored into her with that death glare, he seemed to be...searching her features as well. But why? What for?

Was it because of the fact that, up until this point, she hadn't resisted; had been willing and able to do what was deemed necessary for him? Was it because she was showing this defiance, on behalf of his enemy? Was it because of everything he'd chosen to risk, just to get them to that point in time? In the present moment, she was biting her lower lip, peeling the skin. Did he want to win, expect to, keeping her by his side afterwards? When it was phrased like that, it almost made Grimmjow sound like he were jealous-

Then Ichigo had intervened, giving Orihime his own commands. She hadn't been able to say no to him; hadn't been able to knock some sense into the redhead with the backbone she'd had just a minute earlier. And thus, the battle had begun. She'd had to heal him, and stand aside to merely watch as they'd gone off to their own personal war. Watching, waiting. Hoping. On the sidelines. Just like always.

Her legs were shaking, and after a few more moments of clenching and wobbling, her knees gave way. She sunk to the floor, and a brief chill descended upon her skin as the smooth wood touched her bare legs and then, the palms of her hands as she slowly let go. She didn't care.

Whether or not her feelings were ever reciprocated, one thing would always remain clear in her mind: she just wanted Ichigo to be happy. Even if it meant that they'd never be together as anything more than friends. But she wanted her own happy ending, too. Why was that so wrong?

Had Ichigo ever even touched her, in a way that wasn't involved with the battlefield? Like a hug, or a handshake? A high-five? She couldn't remember, for the life of her. It was only when he'd been trying to save her from certain death. She suddenly felt so isolated and empty. They were never more distant as when they were together. She was always the one who needed to be coddled and given special circumstance.

Not a single piece of proper contact to call upon; when her smile faltered and her wave ceased, what was left? What existed of Inoue Orihime, besides that perfectly bubbly mask? Who could she turn to? Who really needed her?

"_I need you..." _And there it was again. That voice. That single statement, running through her head like a stuck record. It had come from someone who shouldn't have even mattered to her by this point. But in the cold darkness of the midnight hour, she took what she could get. She clung to the phrase like a mantra, a prayer.

When she'd been locked up in Los Noches, at least there, she'd been treated as an equal. Not as a doll; someone who'd break upon hearing the first harsh word. Even if she was being used against those she truly cared for...there was a strange satisfaction in this idea; that beings so powerful and frightening had seen her in such a manner. That they wanted her to stand by them. She was truly important, not shielded and denied. Even Ulquiorra had made mention of it, when his next confrontation with Ichigo had rolled around.

He'd said she belonged with them, the Espada. That she was one of them.

All she could keep seeing in her mind were those chilling blue eyes, and that gleaming grin. All she could feel was his touch, his possessiveness, as he lead her away. It was such a bewildering sensation, to be wanted in such a manner, by such a being. If she let her mind wander, just a little further...

Grimmjow hadn't been obligated to save her. As a villain, he could've just as easily waited until Loly and Menouly had finished with her, and then come around to pick up the pieces. Or, he could've simply barged in, yanked her up and dragged her out, ignoring the other two. Why did he feel the need to put on such a show, taking on two characters who he knew were no match for him? Was he just that bored? Or that unstable?

_Or..._Orihime's mind drifted back, back to the moment when he'd killed Luppi. How their gazes had met, for that one second. The second that seemed to last a lifetime. How his teeth had seemed just a little sharper, his eyes a little darker, his grin a little wider. As if it made the action more enjoyable.

He'd wanted _her_ to notice him. He'd wanted that attention from _her_ specifically.

The thought should have been enough to send the girl scurrying back to bed, to hide under her covers. To try and forget the nightmare; forget all of the twists and turns she'd taken that evening, in the confines of her own mind. To hope for a better tomorrow, like always, before closing her eyes and drifting back into slumber.

But it didn't. She could only hear his voice, feel his need, overwhelming her as the notion of a life without being by Ichigo's side slowly dissipated. The guilt faded, and she was lost once more in those memories of touch and pain and control. Of possession.

Of being something more than who she was.

With hesitant, halting motions she stood up, looking out the window one last time. Her grey eyes flickered, and she gazed up at the stars with longing. Was it so bad to want those things? To want to be noticed for her own merits? To want that contact, no matter the form?

In a twisted way, she had almost begun to view Grimmjow as a strangely comforting presence. Not even his released form could terrify her as badly as Ichigo's second Hollow transformation had. He'd been savage, but he'd still been able to think. To focus. To draw _something_ of a line.

And he'd bothered to regard her as an individual that could stand on their own two feet-no, was expected to. Even if he'd had to play the 'good guy'. Even if she was just an asset, a toy, a prisoner. Even if he'd held her life in his hands. Even if she hadn't been able to fight back. He gave her a unique worth that she wasn't sure she was meant to appreciate. What would others say if they saw her feeling, thinking this way? They probably wouldn't understand. Heck, even she was still trying to sort it all out!

The stars glowed upon the navy canopy of the night sky. All these thoughts running through her head. There were far too many of them, and it was late. She couldn't be sure of anything she felt anymore.

She'd go to bed, then. Return to her dreams, and wake up the next morning, reset and ready to play her part once more. Inoue Orihime, everyone's sweetheart. The emotions would be chalked up as nothing but her imagination running wild. This would all blow over, and she'd never have to worry about it again.

So then why, why did her hand linger by her throat, gently reaching upwards to trace the outline of her jaw? Why did she feel that hint of warmth in her cheeks, causing the air around her to drop in temperature enough to make her eyes water? The stars were so far from her grasp...just like her comprehension. What did she want? Who did she want? What was she looking for?

"_I need you..."_

With a soft shake of her head, Orihime finally shut the window, and headed back down the hall to her room.

**A/N: ...**

**So. FINALLY got caught up on one of my many manga series that I follow, 'Bleach'. Went from vol. 13 to volume 47 in about a week's time. Man, that was a real mind fuck! 'head is STILL spinning' And wonder of wonders, ****I fell in love. With the crack pairing that will never be [but is still intriguing, nonetheless], GrimmHime! 'throws confetti and old chicken bones' Strange, seeing as I mostly gravitate towards the femslash/Yuri/Shojo-Ai. [My first het ship. Aww~. XD]**

**Tried my hand at a fic for the two of them, set in a more recent time period. Not quite during the most current events, though. This is just another 'what if?'; a look into Orihime's thoughts and feelings after the madness that was Hueco Mundo, and the trauma that was the 'Lust' arc. I probably did the most editing with this piece than anything else I've ever written. I was really worried about making a good first impression with my first 'Bleach' fic...**

**I wanted to give my pairing some screen time, but at the same time, I couldn't ignore canon. So I did my best to address Orihime's feelings towards Ichigo which, at least from my POV, have most likely changed drastically since everything that's happened. At the same time though, I also didn't want to go overboard on 'Hime's possibility of 'developing' feelings for our MIA bad boy Espada. She's not the kind of character who would flitter from person to person with her heart, hence why I didn't have her admit anything concrete, other than that she's coming to terms with her and Ichigo's present 'relationship'. [Not an easy task. AT ALL.] How'd I do? Does it make any sense, at all? I hope my general idea came through clear enough. ^^; **

**Yeah, this isn't a very happy piece. It's very dark. Very questionable/questioning. It was my first attempt at writing anything for the above couple, much less the fandom and, as such, I really wanted it to be believable, as well as fit in with the main story, sorta. Like one of those side sequences that will never be shown. Didn't add in anything extra; just went with what I knew from the manga. As long as it captures my audience while they're reading it, I'm happy. :) All feedback is welcomed and appreciated.**

**Whoa...long note is long. After all this, I feel a bit of humor is in order now. 'goes off to nurture the rest of her GrimmHime plotbunnies' ****Take care, everyone.**

**=^.^=**


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